


Forget Me Not

by Rueitae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Natural Disasters, Post-Apocalypse, Sexual Tension, Sick Character, Sickfic, Temporary Character Death, being an immortal guardian of spring sucks, goddess Pidge, season one/two paladin line up, the astral plane in an au, the character death is permanent but the story continues in the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/pseuds/Rueitae
Summary: In a world where humanity is confined to the treetops to survive, Lance finds himself stranded deep in the forest away from home as winter (and certain death) approaches swiftly. He finds a last glimpse of hope in a fading point of light. What he finds on the other side of the light not only saves his life, but saves his heart as well.It's a winter he never wants to forget.
Relationships: Lance & Voltron: Legendary Defender Team, Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the Gardenia Plance Zine! It was a lot of fun to work on and I enjoyed the worldbuilding so much.

Lance  _ needs _ to be home before the earthquakes start.

But he isn’t leaving without Keith. 

“Keith! Keith where are you? Say something!” Lance yells breathlessly in between sprints. He hates being the responsible adult, especially since it means searching for an angry preteen deep in the woods.

A gangly root hidden by dense undergrowth catches his ankle. He slips forward, heart jumping to his throat as the ground slams into his face. Mud splatters his bare arms and soaks into his pants.

The Great Forest predates even the Disasters. And with large, winding roots that criss-cross narrow paths, Lance should be more careful. 

He pushes himself up and ignores the mud staining his clothes and the scrapes and bruises that might mar his skin. His health and hygiene won’t matter if he can’t find Keith and get them both home in time. He curses the kid’s recklessness. The chase took him into territory unfamiliar even to the cartographers. Lance isn’t sure he can find home at this point.

“Keith!” he screams again at the top of his lungs, desperate. Thunder steals the rest of his words and lightning flashes overhead. The perpetually overcast sky seems darker now as if it were night instead of the middle of the day, and a single drop of rain lands on his cheek.

It won’t be long now. The mystical force that protects the Great Forest from the outside elements wanes as it does every fall, only to return with the first signs of spring.

The forest, high in the trees, is the only safe place left on Earth.

It’s where Lance - and Keith and Hunk - should be. 

“Say anything!” Lance yells. “Just let me know you’re okay!” The rolling thunder increases in frequency and his breaths speed to match it. “Come on, Keith! Do you really think Shiro would want you risking your life for him like this?”

_ Not that Shiro has time to feel guilty over it _ , Lance thinks. The doctors are convinced this is Shiro’s last winter - if he even makes it to spring. Refusing to accept the diagnosis, Keith ran off in search of the forest goddess, to ask her if she would save Shiro like she saved him as a baby.

He refused to let anyone tell him the forest goddess had no control over human diseases - if she even exists.

Only the sound of rain falling onto the leaves of the trees and down on him answers. Lance falls to his hands and knees in exhaustion, working to catch his breath and slumping with a heavy heart. He’s not going to find Keith in time at this rate. 

A crisp autumn breeze shoots through the air and the rain picks up in intensity. Lance sits up and shivers, holding his arms close to himself. He prays that the legend of the forest goddess is true and that she led Hunk and Keith to each other at least, and home.

He can only afford to do the same for himself after he finds shelter. Then he can worry about surviving the Disasters until spring.

In the near distance, a grove of trees seems brighter than the rest of the forest, as if it’s summer’s last bastion.

It will have to do, whatever it is.

Lance sprints, stretching his body to its limit for this glimmer of hope. The ground softens as the rain continues to fall, mud sucking at his feet and hampering his speed.

The trees’ shadows blend into the murky dark as the light from the grove fades. Gusts steady and the air chills as the rain intensifies, sapping the heat from his arms and heart. 

He will die for certain if he doesn’t make it to safety. This light is all he has to grasp onto.

Lance isn’t sure what possesses him to yell, “Wait for me!” Keith and Hunk won’t be able to help, and no one lives out here.

As if in response to his cries, the light steadies. Lance breaks through the treeline and is stunned into stopping.

Any other day he'd be in awe at the ruins before him, looking older than most pre-Disaster structures that survived. Moss and vines coat the finely carved columns arranged in a circle, mirroring the treeline, but all but one lay broken as large pieces of stone.

At the center shines the source of the light.

Lance walks towards it. With no shelter in sight, he knows he should be panicking, but this place holds a sense of peace that even the howling winds can’t disturb.

The light emanates from an orb atop a chest-high pedestal and shines on his face like a torch amid the deepening darkness surrounding him. Swirls of spring greens and yellows dance in the orb, illuminated only by the very last flicker of light.

His heart twists in fear when can’t see the ruins any longer, much less the treeline he passed to get to them. He swallows a sob in his throat and cries. Soon he'll be locked in complete darkness, awaiting death by starvation - if the Disasters don’t reach him first.

"I'm so sorry, Mama," he whispers. He has his voice to keep him company at least, though it’s a poor distraction from his fear.

Unintelligible whispers reach his ears, quickly overcome by running water far calmer than the raging floods he’s used to. 

His jaw drops. The sounds seem to be coming from the glass orb, the light now only a dot.

He reaches out and touches it.

Instantly roaring water rushes over him. It threatens to overtake and wash him away, but he pushes back, unwilling to be swept away to his death so easily. He tries to hold tight to the orb, but his fingers pass through. Yet… he stands firm as the current washes over him. 

When Lance dares to open his eyes, he is no longer among the ruins. Streaks of blues and whites stream across a black void with no distinguishable landmarks. A circle of solid blue pools beneath his feet.

He doesn’t know where he is or what is pushing him, but stubbornness and fear alone freeze him in place.

"Lance!"

Surprised to hear a voice besides his own, he searches for the owner. An indistinct figure waves to him from a puddle of green. Pools of purple, red, and yellow complete the circle, each in the exact place where the columns stood.

"Lance, let go!"

He can’t tell who the voice is, but it tingles with familiarity. The tone promises far better than the alternative that awaits him here or outside.

So he lets go.

~~~~~

Lance wakes to the sound of chirping birds and the sweet aroma of flowers. He rests on something soft, with a light weight on top of him.

It’s warm, like the first day of spring. He moans in contentment. He imagines lying on a bed of grass surrounded by his friends and family celebrating the end of winter; a far cry from the cold and darkness he's just come from.

Wait. The warmth on his shoulders feels so real. How can it be when the sun hides behind the clouds through the winter?

He opens his eyes and sits up too quickly, his head spinning with vertigo. He nearly falls back down, but once the dizziness fades, he isn’t sure he believes what he sees.

His bed is really more of a lounge chair, plush and upholstered with purple fabric, and the same soft down in the pillows packs the blanket.

He’s back in the ruins, but they’re no longer  _ ruined _ . Five intact columns in a circle reach for the cloudless blue sky, surrounded themselves by dense forest. A different color - purple, red, blue, green, and yellow - coats each of them. Between them, thick grass and clusters of wildflowers grow around neat stone sidewalk that lead to the where he lies in bed...and where the orb sits on a pedestal in the exact center.

It looks like the home of a god - the forest goddess, he supposes as he sucks in a terrified breath. What else explains the void and how the autumn tempest became peaceful springtime? Was he rescued or kidnapped?

"You woke up sooner than I thought."

The voice from behind startles him, and Lance falls off the makeshift bed onto soft grass, his legs entangled with the blanket. 

He stands clumsily, peering over the back of the bed-chair, recognizing the last voice he’d heard.

Time to meet the forest goddess.

Lance keeps his head low (that was proper procedure for meeting a deity, right?). His gaze slowly rises starting from her sandals. Pale green robes drape her figure and golden jewelry shines in the sunlight. Her necklace holds a green gem with swirls of similar hues twisting about inside. Her auburn hair is untamed and cut short to her chin and her glasses...

Her glasses?

Finally, he looks upon her face...

And remembers  _ everything _ .

Fourteen years old and lost in the forest. She holds his hand and walks him to the edge of the village, scolding him for not listening to his parents.

Sixteen and she teaches him the calls of birds and where the animals live. She jumps into piles of leaves with him in the early fall. 

Eighteen and they explore the forest together. The ruins are her temple and home. 

Twenty when he realizes how lonely she is and how much his friendship means to her. He kissed her forehead, promising to never forget her -

Told her how she’d affected his heart.

Not a forest goddess. Pidge hates that term, prefers “spirit”.

Love wasn’t strong enough. He'd forgotten her. Again.

"Oh quiznak," he moans. His arms drape over the back of the bed-chair as he falls forward. "Pidge, I - I’m so sorry."

She shrugs and gives him a sympathetic smile. "It's not your fault, Lance. You're mortal. You're going to forget me every time we part."

Anticipation drains from his body, at ease in her presence. The fond memories of their time together overwhelm him with joy, and he can think of only one way to release it. 

Pidge blinks in surprise as he approaches, such a human response that always makes him forget she isn’t. “Lance? What are you — “ 

He wraps his arms around her. “I hate missing you when I don’t know I’m missing you,” he says. “You left so suddenly. I thought I’d never see you again!”

She stiffens and protests, “Lance! We talked about this. You’re getting older and I don’t age - “

“You’re still my friend first,” he interrupts. He doesn’t want to hear her completely rational and valid explanation. He knows he’s being selfish, but he doesn’t care. He won’t remember or miss her. Pidge will watch him live without her in blissful ignorance and happiness before watching him die…

“I love you,” he confesses, echoing their last meeting. “I’m okay with whatever you want us to be. I don’t want to see you hurt anymore than you already are.” His heart breaks at his willingness to accept no for an answer.

Reluctantly she relaxes and reciprocates the hug, and the longer he holds her, the tighter she grips him. “Thank you,” she whispers. He takes small comfort in her regretful tone, at least knowing the rejection doesn’t come from a lack of feelings. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she says after a long pause, dropping her arms from his back. “Mortals aren’t supposed to be able to enter this place.” Her brows furrow in thought. “I think. It’s never happened before.”

“But you saved me,” Lance says as he backs away. The pain of rejection is easily put aside by her attention to the problem at hand while a sense of foreboding bubbles in his gut. “Is that why you called out in that void place?”

“It is,” she admits. She paces for several steps, twisting fistfuls of fabric from her sleeves. “But you got there on your own, Lance. I don’t understand why or how but,” she sighs and offers a weak, but soft smile, “at least you’re safe.”

Safe. The word triggers panic. “Hunk and Keith. Are they okay?” he squeaks. “Did—”

“They’re fine,” Pidge interrupts. She pivots to the glass orb and beckons him to follow. Lance stands behind her, wary that the orb may once again whisk him away without warning. 

She waves a hand over it. The greenish hues transform into Hunk’s porch. There, his family ushers him and Keith inside, and a giant wave crashes against the door as soon as they slam the door shut. The water blends into swirling teals as the scene fades, the orb returning to its base greens.

Lance clutches his chest at the close call. It seems the floods are the first Disaster this winter, but at least Keith will be in good hands with Hunk’s family.

“I had to make sure they got back to the village,” Pidge says, trembling. Tears prick at her eyes when they meet his. “I  _ knew _ you were out there,” she growls in frustration. “I just don’t understand how you’re here. You  _ should _ be dead.”

Lance forces himself to smile for her sake; there’s no sense in adding any unneeded angst to her immortal life. Pidge has always been more human than she lets on, her love of human progress and joy in tinkering a testament to that. She needs comforting just like he does. 

“Well, I’m here.” He shrugs, putting on an air of confidence. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. You can just send me home, right? We can figure it out in the spring.”

Pidge doesn’t respond right away. Every second that passes causes his smile to deepen into a frown, worry churning in his gut. 

His heart twists at his conclusion. “You can’t,” he says. The memories of his time with Pidge play on fast forward in his mind, none during the dead of fall and winter. “And you can’t leave until spring either.”

Pidge nods. “I’m sorry, Lance. I know how close you are to your family.” She lifts her arms and green balls of light flicker at her fingertips. “I’m not even sure if I can once my powers return if I don’t find out how you managed to get here in the first place.”

An entire winter apart from his family? And they’d think him dead? In a strange immortal realm where he isn’t supposed to be? 

His heart drops into his stomach. 

But he’s with Pidge, and that emboldens him. “Ha. Are you kidding? Of course you’ll be able to get me home,” he boasts instead. “Pidge, I have seen you do  _ amazing _ things.” He pivots on his left foot, gesturing wildly at the world around them. “You’ve saved more people over the centuries than I can count, and everyone remembers when you brought us Keith.” He snorts and puts a hand on his hip. “Hard to forget a walking tree.” 

Instead of glowing, Pidge clenches her fists. “I couldn’t save his father,” she confesses. 

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically in an attempt to match her mood before trying to lift it. “You saved Keith though. You did what literally anyone would do.”

Pidge closes her eyes. “I just… when I first realized what I was, I thought I could save everyone. People  _ still _ drown,  _ still _ burn,  _ still _ get hit by debris. I can’t control the elements, only bolster the forest.” 

She takes a deep, trembling breath. “I’m so _ sick _ of not knowing why  _ me _ ,” she yells upwards. “I’ve  _ tried _ to fix things, but it’s never enough! Maybe if the other elements were regulated like I do with the forest, but,” she drops to the knees and pounds her fists into the ground, “I have waited so long, and no one has come to take charge of them.”

Anger fills him at the implication that there should be others like Pidge to control the elements that keep humanity confined, that make the earth before the Disasters more legend than history with every generation...and that she’s so alone. 

He’s by her side in an instant, hand on her back to let her know  _ he _ is here. “I don’t understand. Are the others lazy? Don’t they care about how bonkers the world is?”

“I don’t think they exist yet,” Pidge spits in disgust. Lance helps her to stand, struck by the dark bags under her eyes contrasting with paler skin than he remembers. Can immortals get tired? She walks to the green column and places her hand on a single decorative marking. “The green pillar is the only one that glows.” She sighs, more reflective than angry now. “It’s been like that ever since I was brought here.”

“Wait,  _ brought _ ? You didn’t come here on your own?” Something clicks in his mind as her strange phrasing comes together. “Didn’t you always know what you were?”

Her face twists in uncertainty, transitioning to defeat. She drops her hand from the pillar and turns to face him, shoulders slumped. 

“It hurts to think about sometimes,” she begins. “That’s why I never said anything to you before. I used to be human.”

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” Lance shrieks in shock. 

Pidge nods, giving him a perturbed glance before explaining. “I remember Earth the way it used to be, before the Galra came and incited the constant natural disasters. My family escaped to the forest, but it was wild too, just like the elements. They founded the village you live in.”

“The Galra are real,” Lance echoes disbelievingly, “and you used to be human.” Lance laughs. “Next you’ll be saying I’m a guardian spirit too.” There seem to be a few job openings, and he’d be better than no one.

Pidge scowls and clenches her fists. “I’m telling the truth! I — “ she pauses, her entire demeanor changing. She stares at him, eyes wide and body rigid. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance blurts out of shame. This did explain a lot, such as her mannerisms and attachment to the village. She had a  _ family _ . “How - how long have you been alone?”

Pidge doesn’t respond. She doesn’t look angry at him any longer either, but she looks scared - for  _ him _ .

The moment breaks as she coughs. Lance winces at the deepness and how wet it sounds. Do spirits get sick? He steps forward and opens his mouth - 

“I’m fine!” she squeaks before he can ask. “I - I’m just not used to hosting anyone here. I’m glad it’s you, it’s just… weird.”

Lance sighs, shoulders slumping. She lets him take her hand and lead her to the bed. “Well, now you’ve got a roommate for the winter,” he jokes as he encourages her to sit, which she does heavily. “Ha. Do we have to share a bed too?”

The words come out of his mouth before he can think, but with it comes the revelation that he wouldn’t mind sharing with Pidge. But he won’t. Not until she says so, and he won’t push the issue. He can’t risk never seeing her again.

Pidge covers another cough with her arm before saying, “You can have it. I don’t need sleep. Not like you do.”

Why have a bed if she doesn’t need sleep?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks instead. “That cough sounds bad.” 

Her gaze pierces his soul as if to judge him. In the moment he understands the untold amount of power his friend truly has. 

But an instant later she slumps her shoulders and her eyes soften, looking as human as he. 

“Since you’re staying I should probably tell you everything,” she concedes. She pats the spot next to her, bidding him to sit. She rests her head on his shoulder, looking more like a tired child than a goddess. 

“I don’t just lose my powers during the winter,” she explains more to the ground than him. “I also get sick. My life is never in danger, but I get sore and drained of all my energy.” She flashes him an apologetic smile. “I won’t be very good company; you’ll have to plan most of our Monsters and Mana story.”

Sympathy washes over him. Smiling, he takes her hand in his. “It would be my honor,” he says. “I’ll keep you company and make sure you’re comfy cozy - warm soups, blankets, massages - you name it! It’ll be the best winter you’ve ever had!”

Pidge stares at him, her mouth agape, before it wobbles and her eyes well up with tears. “My own family couldn’t even see me after I died. I don’t know how or why you can, but I treasure every second you spend with me.”

Warmth surges in his chest as she jerks up and wraps her arms around his neck. He aches for his family, but they have each other and Lance has no choice. He will just have to surprise them all in the spring by being alive. Pidge needs him more right now.

“You’ve been alone too long,” he whispers in her ear. “I’ll make sure you’re never lonely again.”

“You can’t keep that promise,” she says, shivering. “You’re mortal, and I’m the only thing between your village and destruction. I need to focus. I’ve already spent too much time fantasizing about this to - “

“Fantasizing, huh?” Lance chuckles. His lips are right there, and it takes zero effort to kiss her cheeks. It’s quick and friendly, emboldened by their years of friendship and the flame of longing that still burns in his chest (though he wonders if he imagines the chill on her skin). “That’s not fair, Pidge. I can only think about you when I see you.”

Pidge breaks the hug and wipes away snot with the sleeve of the beautiful dress that Lance will never see the likes of outside books. “You barely know me,” she says sternly, punching him dispassionately in the arm. “I only see you for half a year, and you forget. That’s asking a lot of you to even be my friend.”

“You’re not asking, I’m giving,” he says immediately, hope surging that she may reconsider the nature of their relationship. “Even if I do forget, I remember everything as soon as I see you. You love the early spring snowball fights, peanut butter cookies, and games.” He laughs. “Remember when I first brought my Monsters and Mana pieces into the forest? I had so much fun, I almost didn’t make it home before dark for a few weeks.”

Her mouth twitches, fighting to hold back a smile and losing. She’s more beautiful than a summer sunset. His heart swells, wanting nothing more than to just lean in and show her… but Pidge hardly looks to be in the romantic mood. “I guess,” she responds. “It’d be even better with more than two people, though. You’re a great friend, Lance, you’re just my  _ only _ friend.”

He takes her hand, pouring his sincerity into the touch. He’d go insane if only one person could see him, he can’t imagine how it is for her. “We’ll just have to make the best of it until others  _ can _ see you! I _ like _ spending time with you, Pidge. We can expand our game as much as we want, and you can show me around the forest before you get too sick and tell me about your family. I want to know everything about  _ Pidge _ , not just the springtime Pidge.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, locking eyes with him. “We’d never be a normal couple.”

“It’s the best feeling in the world when I remember all our times together. I don’t mind. Are…  _ you _ okay with that?”

Pidge steels her gaze. “I think I’d rather spend what time I have with you to the fullest than wonder what could have been. I want…” her eyes soften, “I want to see what happens.”

“Me too.” Lance smiles, cheeks warming. He kisses her knuckles, earning a red glow from Pidge’s face. “Maybe it was the power of love that brought me here?” he teases.

Pidge considers him carefully, biting at her lower lip. “I have a different theory about why,” she says, “but I don’t have enough evidence. I think -“

She heaves forward, rolling into his side in a coughing fit. Lance puts a hand on her back and rubs, like his mother would do for him. 

He  _ hopes _ he can help her, ease her pain in any way. 

“I’m fine,” she rasps once finished, rubbing her tearful eyes with the palm of her hand. “It’s like this every year.”

Lance takes her into a gentle hug, careful to give her space to cough and wipe her eyes. 

“Not this year,” he says. “This year you’ve got me.”

~~~~~

Lance kneels in the tall grass alongside the creek, drawing water with a tightly woven basket. He stands and wipes sweat from his brow. Though his home sits in the depths of winter, this world is forever entrenched in spring.

A smaller basket filled with an assortment of plants sits on the bank. He’s gathering herbs and fresh water at Pidge’s request in anticipation for the worst of her illness this winter. He left while she napped, hoping to use their time while she’s awake to its maximum potential.

“There you are!”

He's not expecting to hear her voice so suddenly as he climbs the embankment.

Lance yelps and slips backwards. The basket of water flies out of his hands and his back stings when it hits the surface of the stream.

“Lance!” Pidge yells in worry. 

Lance doesn’t panic, even when the water invades his nostrils. He’s used to the forest here and needs only to sit his bum on the sandy, weed-choked riverbed to push his upper body above water. He spits out what’s entered his mouth and slicks back his hair, wiping his face with wet hands

“Seriously, Pidge? I thought you were sleeping,” he complains. 

“I was!” she says as she slides down the bank to the edge of the stream. “Then I woke up and you were gone,” she pauses to cough, deeper and more rapidly than the day before. 

Lance winces. How much worse will she get? It’s only been a few weeks. 

“I thought you’d gotten sent back someho —“ She stares, mouth open wide. 

Lance furrows his brow and follows her gaze. It’s on him, specifically his chest, which if he looks down… is easily visible now that his thin cotton shirt is soaking wet. 

She’s… ogling him? 

Worry for Pidge’s worsening condition temporarily forgotten, Lance knows an opportunity when he sees one. A mischievous grin overtakes his face as he teases, . “Enjoying the view, my goddess?”

Her face turns bright red. “Lance!” She sputters indignantly, coughing and putting a clutching hand over her chest. “I was seriously worried about you...and I’m a  _ spirit _ , not a goddess!”

She doesn’t take her eyes off of him, giving him pause; she really  _ is _ giving him the lookover. His cheeks burn despite the cool water that drips off his body. He knows it’s just Pidge, but that almost makes it worse than an honest to goodness - correct term or not -  _ goddess _ appreciating  _ his _ sex appeal. 

He clears his throat and pulls at his shirt, attempting to make it less form-fitting. “Enough to go looking for me?” he asks instead. “I figured I could get the pain relief supplies while you slept. You need it, Pidge.”

“Sleep isn’t going to help me get better. This is a magical illness. I won’t get better until spring.” She coughs, once, and not deep. 

Lance crosses his arms, a crazy idea popping into his head. “Well, if you’re not going to sleep…” he reaches out and grabs her arm, “then you can join me for a cool bath!” And he yanks her into the stream with him. 

Pidge screams in surprise as she crashes into the water next to him, spitting it out of her mouth a moment later when she sits next to him. 

Lance is pleased with himself as she attempts to dry, until his eyes fall a bit too far. The water drenching her makes her loose dress heavy, the neckline low enough to reveal more cleavage than he’s prepared to see. Fresh from the revelation of Pidge’s thoughts, it feels as if the water boils around him as he looks for literally anything else to observe. 

Her hair slicks back even better than his and he’s shocked to discover her glasses are only frames as she takes them off to wipe her face. He’s never seen her without them. It softens her features, and Lance falls in love all over again. 

“You don’t need glasses?” he asks. “Why do you wear them if you don’t need them?”

Pidge is somber as she puts them back on. “They belonged to my brother. I had been...teasing him before I died, and was wearing them. Somehow, out of everything I was wearing, they passed over.”

“Oh,” Lance says lamely. He focuses on a school of minnows that nibble his toes. “I’m sorry, Pidge.”

“At least I have something to remember my family by,” she sighs. “It’s weird. I have all these powers and all these books I saved, but,” she smiles and looks to the sky, “thinking of my family and seeing what they and their descendants accomplished are what really keeps me sane.”

Lance perks up. “That’s right. You said your family founded the village.” He laughs and pokes her arm. “Who are you related to?”

Pidge rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop smiling. “Chip Gunderson is the closest living relative I have. There hasn’t been a Holt in a long time.”

Now that she tells him, Lance can easily see the same goofy grin and round race, that same thirst for knowledge and knack for machinery.

His thoughts wander and he frowns. “You said you died young. Did you...were you ever...married?” Lance doesn’t know many courting details from before the Disasters, but there were so many more people in the world. Pidge is so smart and beautiful and funny; surely she had plenty of suitors. 

Pidge stares at him for a few long moments, and he does not expect her to burst into laughter. 

“What? What’s so funny?” he asks, as confused as when he first arrived in this place. 

She hugs her sides, calming. “Things were a little different before the Disasters,” she explains. “No, I wasn’t dating anyone and I was never married.”

Lance finds relief in her admission. Even if she loved before, it wouldn’t change how he feels for her. All the same, it’s liberating, despite having never thought on it before now.

“Hey,” she bumps his arm with hers. “Romance was the last thing on my mind when I was alive, but…” Her cheeks turn a rosey pink. “I’m glad it's happening now, with you.”

All sheepishness from earlier fades with her admission, and his heart melts. He leans comfortably against her as she does on him. It doesn’t matter that they’re half submerged in a stream. Lance decides that anywhere with Pidge is the perfect place to be. 

“I’d marry you,” he blurts, “in a heartbeat if it meant we could be like this forever.”

Pidge looks up, staring into his soul with the eyes of the guardian spirit she was. “I can’t stop you from forgetting me and falling in love with someone else.”

Her statement cuts Lance deep. It’s true. He won’t remember her in between their meetings. The guilt would cut away at him forever. “I won’t,” he promises. “I’m going to wait for you. You’re my soulmate, Pidge. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re...beautiful…” Her face drifts closer “I - I  _ know _ it’s a weird situation and - “  _ I want to spend the rest of my life with you. _

She gives him a sad smile, cutting him off by placing a finger to his lips. “I want you to be happy, Lance. That starts with being with your family. Trust me on this one. Let’s make sure we can get you home first.”

He’s tried to push back his homesickness after the first week and succeeded too well. He misses his mom, dad, siblings, and friends. Lance sighs, but smiles sadly as he rests his forehead on hers. This is why he is hers; their love of family is strong. “Thank you, Pidge. I like it when you’re right.”

Pidge pecks his forehead. “Of course I’m right. I also like to keep score.”

Keep score? What kind of phrase was that?

Before Lance can ask, Pidge has already gathered up water in the cup of her hand. Her arm speeds across the water and splashes it in his face.

“Serves you right for dragging me into the water,” Pidge snarks. “I may have power over plants, but I’m not one of them.”

“Oh,” Lance says ominously once he shakes his head dry. Delighted by the spontaneous game, he stands and cups both hands in the water. “I see how it is.”

Pidge stands and leans forward, ready to pounce. “You’re not winning this one.”

Lance is drawn to her upper chest, cowl of her dress still sagging. He can’t help but wonder, as they’re about to get into a water fight, that perhaps they’re both winners so long as they each get good and wet. 

“We’ll see about that!” He strikes first, throwing as much water as he’s able in Pidge’s direction. She laughs in delight, sending a half-hearted splash his way in retaliation before turning her face away from his attack. 

It’s as if a wave washed over Pidge rather than the small splash he expected...

He dismisses it as Pidge launches her counterattack, wearing a cocky grin. This is a weird magical realm where anything can happen. 

He twists to keep the barrage away from his face, heart racing with the thrill of the game. He turns to launch his next attack and stops in his tracks. Pidge has fallen to her knees, leaning over in a coughing fit.

“Pidge!” he cries, heart thumping with renewed panic. He splashes over to her as fast as he can against the resistance of the water.

She falls into his arms as he reaches her. She shivers as the coughing abates. “I’m s-sorry,” she says weakly. “I’m so tired all of a sud--”

“Don’t talk,” he says gently as he cradles her in the water. It seems their idyllic free time is at an end, and he mourns the loss of it. “Just rest. I’ve got you, I promise. Leave everything to me.”

This is one promise he can keep.

~~~~~

Lance sets his offering down and kneels before her, the same as he does every day. “I got the usual. Ready?” 

“Please,” Pidge gasps. She lies on the bed, all blankets banished to the floor, her breathing labored. She’s barely better off than the day before, but now she has enough energy to speak. Surely she’s seen the worst of the illness and spring will soon arrive outside this realm. 

He tears some leaves and drops them into a basket of water. “I think tomorrow I’m going to go for a swim. I think I saw some Silvertails at the bottom of the lake yesterday.” He picks up a cluster of flowers and uses them to stir the mixture, squeezing them to filter out excess water. 

“They aren’t medicinal,” Pidge says. “Don’t bother.” 

With care, he pushes her bangs out of the way and lets the damp flowers rest on her forehead. “I thought you said they were pretty,” he teases. “I was going to make you a bouquet. A gift would perk you up.”

Pidge relaxes, all the tension melting away, leaving a goofy smile. “You don’t have to get me anything. I feel better already.”

“Good. It’s working faster every day.” He waggles a wet leaf above her head. The plant reacts to an overabundance of water - Pidge explained when she first instructed him - and it eases the pain in her throat. 

She opens her mouth, and he drops the leaf on her tongue. She rolls over, back to him, groaning in misery. 

Lance makes himself comfortable on the nest of discarded blankets, using the bed as a backrest. He grabs a half-finished basket from the floor next to him and begins to weave, one of many hobbies he’s picked up in his time in this realm. 

(He’s going to try underwater basket weaving one of these days, just to see an expression other than agony or relief on Pidge’s face.)

“What do you want to do next?” he airs. “Up for Monsters and Mana? Checkers?”

“You know,” she rasps. 

Lance rolls his eyes and sets the project in his lap. “Pidge, I don’t even know what half of it is saying. You’re a forest spirit; why do you have technical manuals?”

Pidge coughs, her throat too sore to say more.

He already knows: because they’re interesting (for her). Lance reaches for the pile of books at the end of the bed, grabbing the first his fingers touch. 

“SONAR: A Study of Sound,” he reads aloud. His nose wrinkles, and he sets it aside, twisting around to browse the other titles. “‘Study of Color: Extreme Quilting’? No. ‘The Cry of the Tapeworm’?  _ What _ ?.” He stacks them on the floor as he rules them out. “Ah! Here we go! ‘The Colony’ - looks pretty interesting.” The cover features a flying ship. Hopeful it contains a story about space or a fantasy world in the sky, he opens it to the table of contents.

His jaw drops. “It’s an instruction manual to build a colony on Mars?” He groans and plants his face on the bed in frustration. “Pidge, do you have any actual stories?”

Pidge rolls over to face him, clutching at her pillow and smiling weakly. “Your Monsters and Mana adventures are better than any story I could read in a book.”

Lance twists to face her, heart pumping in excitement - and warmth in his cheeks from the compliment. “Your voice isn’t scratchy anymore! Feeling better?”

“I’ve been worse.” She flops an arm on his shoulder. “Help me up. I need to check outside.”

He does, allowing her to hang on his shoulder as they walk the few steps to the orb. If Pidge feels better, then his time with her is coming to an end. It’s a fact he both loves and hates.

Winter was long. He failed to take in how bored he’d be with Pidge bedridden - he didn’t know she’d get  _ that _ sick. Lance misses his family too, the prospect of seeing their tearful, happy faces come spring keeping his spirits high. 

Sympathy for Pidge makes him smile. She’s been here a long time, suffering alone every winter, companionless besides him each spring. He doesn’t want that for her. It isn’t fair. 

Pidge lazily moves her hand over the orb. It changes colors, dark greens shifting to a scene of the village standing strong like every year. An orange glow at the bottom shows a raging fire burning well below the treehouses. 

“So far so good,” Lance offers. He frowns as he notices the common house as the only area with lighting inside. “Everyone’s together. I wonder what’s going on.”

Pidge clears her throat but doesn’t respond. She thrusts her fingers onto the orb and the scene changes until they look in as if through a window. 

Lance sees everyone: his parents, siblings, niece, nephew, his neighbors, Hunk and his family, and Keith… sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone has an aggrieved demeanor. 

“Shiro,” he gasps. “Pidge, can you get us closer? Can we hear what they’re saying?”

He isn’t going to get to say goodbye. 

The thought is almost too distressing, to not say a final goodbye in a village where even the elders tease him for kissing a mouse instead of Jenny, where he attends every wedding - even for the schoolmates whose cups he and Hunk slipped tadpoles into for picking on Ina - where he knows everyone’s name. The loss of anyone hurts them all, and to lose a young man… Lance swallows. Shiro isn’t that much older than he is. 

And he’s a good friend. His declining health hit them all hard, especially Keith, hopeful - or stubborn - enough to hope for a solution. 

Which put Lance in the forest at the end of fall in the first place. 

Pidge applies more pressure to the orb. The scene jumps to Shiro, his face pale as he struggles to breathe. Dr. Iverson and his family surround him. No one does much but hold his hand, lips moving in presumed words of comfort while tears stain their eyes red. 

Salt touches the edge of his mouth, but he can’t find the energy to wipe his tears. Is this how his family grieved for him?

“I’m sorry,” Pidge mutters, leaning her head into his chest. “I wish I could have helped.”

“It’s not your fault,” he assures her swiftly.

Shiro takes no last gasp of air; he simply stops breathing. The doctor covers his face with a thin blanket.

Lance bows his head to pay his respects. His heart thumps, heavy with sadness. 

A burst of violet light disrupts the somber moment. Pidge gasps and Lance squints against the piercing light. 

The purple column shines bright, pulsing. Brightest of all is a symbol varying slightly from the one on the green column but clearly of similar origin.

Lance’s mouth, agape in wonder, snaps shut. “Do-does this mean there’s a new Guardian?”

“I… guess so,” Pidge responds, voice full of longing. “I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

Lance squeezes her shoulder. “What do you want to do?”

Pidge straightens, standing with her own strength for the first time in months. 

She takes a deep breath. “I need to say hello and help him understand what’s going on.”

“How do you know it’s a…” But it all lines up: how she told him how scared and confused she was to wake up after death, learning her role by accident and necessity to save her family. 

Lance knows who they’ll be seeing.

He holds her hand as she reaches out to the column and presses her palm against the pulsing emblem. 

The spring world shatters like glass. An invisible barrier separates Lance from Pidge despite holding her hand moments before. Back in the void, he sees her clearly this time, standing across from him with a solid green circle beneath her feet. It’s the same as when he first touched the orb, only now purple tinges the darkness and red and blue stars dot the sky. 

Lance braces himself as an unseen force pushes him backwards, struggling to hold his ground against the waves. 

Shiro stands within a purple circle, breathing and clothed in silky robes of pitch black speckled with the stars themselves. A barely visible vortex swirls where his diseased right arm once was. 

“What - what’s going on?” Shiro asks frantically. He beholds his new arm as his other shakes, eyes wide and body rigid. “Where am I? Who are - Lance? Is this the afterlife?”

“Kind of,” Pidge admits. “I’m Pidge, and Lance is still technically alive. You - “

The force of the invisible wave wins over his will and Lance falls backward. He winces, anticipating solid ground.

His back meets soft cushions instead, his ears filled with the familiar birdsong of spring. He opens his eyes to Pidge’s realm.

Hours pass without Pidge. Never has he felt such restlessness. He knows Shiro needs her guidance, but the sounds of animals do little to alleviate the wrongness of not having Pidge there, accentuating the otherworldliness of the realm. 

He paces the temple area, pausing to examine the columns. The purple column now glows steadily. He wonders if it will take a long time for the other three to arrive. The thought makes him queasy, realizing that the right person has to die to protect humanity. What would he do with such a burden? 

He plops down by the bed. 

He fiddles with strings of bark left from his basket weaving, twisting it absentmindedly around his ring finger. Red overlaps the brown in a crude outline of a leaf. He ties it into a ring. Despite his earlier offer to bring her flowers, he wonders if Pidge would appreciate such a rustic gift when she adorns herself with gold jewelry. She hardly needs anything to remember him, but he’s a romantic, and a warm fuzzy feeling fills his chest at the thought of adhering to pre-Disaster ways of courtship. 

He falls back onto the grass with a silly grin. His thoughts circle to bending a knee to Pidge and offering up his latest craft, reciting flowery words from a book or daring to concoct his own. 

He doesn’t know how long he daydreams, but he doesn’t mind. He can do so all day. 

He misses her so powerfully his chest aches. A wave of understanding hits him; he won’t be able to stand being apart from her in the winter, not after all the fun times they had, nor does he want her to suffer alone in sickness. He doesn’t want to forget - but if he can’t be here, it’s a blessing in disguise to not know what he’s missing. 

A violet glow pulses once. Lance scrambles to stand, but it’s Pidge who runs towards him. 

She plants her face in his chest. “I was scared you might have been sent back to the forest.”

He holds her like a lifeline. “I ended up right back here. Is Shiro okay?”

Pidge inhales deeply as she backs away. “As well as he can be. Once he understood what he can do, he set to work pushing back the storms.” She smirks. “The forest will be a  _ lot _ less windy from now on.” She takes his hand in hers. “Are  _ you _ okay?” 

“It’s… a lot to take in,” he says truthfully. “This is what happened to you, isn’t it? And it’ll happen to the other three too, right?” The void flashes in his memory, of the blue spot that seems to be reserved just for him. “It’s terrifying actually, to think that one day that’ll be - “ He can’t say it aloud. Maybe he’s wrong.

Does he want to be right?

Pidge squeezes his hand. “I’m so sorry, Lance. I figured it out a while ago. I wanted you to live without the burden.”

His hand shakes, but he smirks to hide the burgeoning fear. Pidge has been through much, and the knowledge her fate will be his threatens to tear his mind apart. So he chooses to shrug it off. “What is there to it? I’ve always wanted to be a hero.” He laughs. “Just didn’t expect to die  _ first _ .”

Pidge inhales sharply. “Yeah. You will.”

His face falls. That wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for. “Pidge - “

“I can send you home now,” she blurts, averting her eyes. “Thanks to Shiro, I’m strong enough to bolster the forest earlier this year.”

The words chill his bones despite the perpetual warmth of this realm’s sun. Pidge was so sick not that long ago, but now she’s the picture of health, no longer sweaty and gasping for breath. She stands tall, robes clean, and breathes effortlessly. Her hair is longer, draping loosely over her shoulders.

She looks strong - and just like spring. 

He wasn’t expecting to leave her so suddenly. Although he’s scared, he says, “I don’t want to forget this.”

“The only way you can remember is to see me or stay here, neither of which you should do. It’d be better,” she says hesitantly, “if you don’t see me again until you die.”

Die. Her last word grips his throat. 

“No, oh no no no. I don’t want to play that game.” A new fear beats back the one for his fate. “Pidge, I’ll know I’m missing something if I never see you again. Please.”

Pidge narrows her eyes. “You can’t stay here, Lance.”

Dread weighs down his heart, and he swallows hard. “Not in the spring, but I can return every winter,” he pleads. “You just say the word and I’ll be there.”

“No!” Pidge says. “I - I mean, spend the time with your family. You’ll miss them when you arrive here for good.”

He does miss them already, very much. But he’s just seen Pidge at her worst, and he doesn’t want to leave her alone to suffer again. How can he? His mother raised him better than that. 

“I’m not alone anymore, Lance. There’s another Guardian now. Shiro’s a good person. I’m sure he’ll help me.”

_ But it won’t be me _ , Lance thinks. It’s the only rebuttal he has because Pidge is right. Shiro will look after her and Lance wants to be with his family while he can. 

A sob worms its way up his throat. He forces it back with a deep breath. 

“I promise I won’t forget you this time,” he says as tears cloud his vision. “I looked at your face as much as I could this winter. I’ll remember.” 

Her face is hard, but her eyes betray that she’s hurting with this farewell as much as he is. “You don’t have a choice, Lance. I don’t expect you to remember.”

“Then find me every spring.” He grabs her arms. “Please. You promised. Remember what you said when we agreed to try this?”

She hesitates before taking hold of his shirt, mouthing the words before saying them aloud. “To use this time we have to the fullest and see what happens.” She leans in closer, her eyes searching for an answer. “What do we have?”

Pidge draws Lance in like a moth to flame. He cups the side of her face and kisses her, to answer the question, to convey how much he wants to remember her. 

She presses into his abdomen, pushing him backward, and leans in, responding in kind. 

His hot face, her soft lips, their breath mingling as they part only for an instant...it’s all worth the hardships that await them.

Her lips find his again as his back hits the bed, his legs dangling off the side. Pidge straddles him with a fistful of his shirt. 

He breaks away to breathe, heart pounding in anticipation. “Don’t I need to like, cleanse myself in a sacred spring or something?” He kisses her neck. “Before we do this?” 

“I love  _ you _ , Lance.” Her fingers run through his hair, nails scraping his scalp and lips pressing onto his forehead. “I want you exactly as you are.”

His ears - and other body parts - burn. “You really should meet my mother first.” But Lance fingers her hair rather than making a move to get up. “I love you, Pidge,” he says, basking in her warm hazel eyes and playful smile. “Don’t wait until I’m dead to see me again.”

A kiss that tastes of fresh strawberries lingers at the corner of his mouth. “I’m not sure I can stay away from you if I wanted.” Her weight rests on him, her head in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, for not wanting to forget.”

Her body is warm, and though he wants to be sated, he’s content to just hold her. He plants a kiss on her collarbone and quips, “Is this the part where we have a half-mortal kid who grows up to beat the bad guys?” 

She laughs, but it’s less mirthful than usual. “If so, there’s no one I’d rather be the father.” 

He drinks in her next kiss, and his lips struggle to hang on as she rises. He sits up, brow furrowed while she backs away from the bed. 

Why is she crying? 

Vines wrap around her arm, a soft green glow around her body. 

“Pidge, no, please,” he begs. “Promise me I’ll see you soon.”

She raises a hand and a green orb or energy forms on her palm. “Live a good long life for me, Lance.”

The green light overwhelms his senses and he futilely raises an arm to shield his gaze.

The light dims a beat later and Lance opens his eyes. 

Snow melts and vibrant flowers bloom before his eyes. He sits among a cluster of Forget-Me-Nots, a grove of trees in the near distance sprouting leaves, hiding its interior from view... 

How did he get so deep into the forest so soon after the beginning of spring?

He can’t even remember if Hunk and Keith are okay. Had he gone looking for their remains? A pit opens in his stomach. To lose his friends would be too much. 

Lance supposes he’d better go home and find out. He’ll worry about the mysterious wooden scrap that fits snugly on his ring finger later.

~~~~~

It’s hard to breathe these days. 

It only grows worse with each friend or family member who goes before him, his parents, siblings, Hunk, even Keith. 

His great nieces and nephews sit by his bedside, their mouths moving, but Lance hears no words. He hasn’t for a while. He recognizes a few by reading their lips: love you, get better, forest spirit - (their favorite story). 

That falls on Nadia now, to pass on to her children and grandchildren. 

The forest spirit kept them safe through the Disasters as they whittled away. The storms stopped and eventually so did the earthquakes and fires. Only the floods still come. 

Lance always wanted to see the world beyond the Great Forest, but he’s tired now. Perhaps the young ones will outlive the floods. He’s satisfied to leave that dream to them.

With no children of his own, his niece holds his hand, tears in her eyes. Lance is grateful because he hasn’t the strength to grip hers. 

He smiles, chest filled with warmth at the sight of his family just as big as when it was him and his siblings. The baby growing in Sylvio’s daughter will replace him in number. 

He wishes he'd be able to meet the kid. He loves kids. 

Instead, his vision blurs, and he whispers, “- love y - “

Lance gasps, not remembering the last time he inhaled this much air. Shouldn’t dying have the  _ opposite _ effect?

“It’s about time, Lance! We’ve been waiting for you!”

Lance faces the voice and opens his eyes. “Hunk?” he exclaims, his breath hitching at seeing his oldest and best friend standing in a pool of golden yellow among a dark void. He looked forward to seeing him again. “You look like you just finished school!” he laughs.

Hunk grins. “I missed you, man.” Young again he may be, but he’s overdressed for a graduation ceremony. Robes of pure gold drape Hunk’s body, his muscular arms exposed and crossed - imposing to strangers, welcoming and huggable to friends. “Same to you.”

Lance yelps when he realizes he’s standing too. Gone are his sweat-drenched cotton pajamas; a silky robe dyed a blue deeper than the sky in summer adorns him as if he’s a king of old. He nearly stumbles over the hem in surprise, but an ethereal blue current from a pool of the same color caresses and holds him upright. It flows up his arms and through his fingertips. It's strange but comforting; the not-exactly-water overwhelms him but it’s not like the raging floods he’s used to.

Lance examines his hands, twisting them in front of his face. They’re smooth, wrinkle-free as if he’s twenty again.

“Welcome, Lance. Or should I say, welcome back?”

Shiro smiles at him from across the way. 

Lance is floored; he never got a chance to say goodbye all those years ago. “Shiro, I’m so sorry I wasn't there. I can’t remember what happened to me that winter.”

Shiro isn’t upset, but his grin turns mischievous. “You were right where you needed to be, Lance.”

“Hopefully now you’ll finally stop picking on me for getting you lost in the forest.” Keith wears robes of bright red that flicker like flame. Rather than an awkward kid, he’s the same physical age as him and standing in a pool of red, radiating confidence and smirking - as if he knows something Lance doesn’t.

“Is this it?” Somehow Lance expected… not this. Not the swirling black, blue, and white void. Not this group of friends. “Shouldn’t there be...more people in the afterlife?” Where are his parents, his siblings?

“Seriously, that’s the first question you  _ all _ ask?” 

The very familiar voice comes from the fifth and final green circle. “Come on, Lance. You’ve been prepping for this.”

Before he can see her face, the world dissolves. 

He stands on a cliff overlooking the sea, a sunset reflecting off the water against the darkening blue - and clear - skies. It’s awe-inspiring to see such a vast amount of water not raging to kill him. He’s never seen so few trees before! With him on the cliff are five columns with laid stone between them, glowing in the colors of the circles from the other world. A bed with purple linens sits at the tip of the cliff, and at the center between the columns stands a pedestal with a glass orb that glows in blue hues. 

It all tickles with familiarity, but Lance can’t place it. 

“Maybe this will jog your memory?”

He turns towards the speaker, the girl wearing green robes and golden jewelry. A heartfelt and soft smile graces her face, tears behind the frames on her eyes. 

Pidge. 

It all comes back, from the first time she rescued him to his final and eightieth spring that she stayed by his side in the gardens making him flower crowns while he rested his aging body. 

To that winter that changed it all, the reason they waited for each other. 

He runs to her, legs as spry as when he was a teenager. 

“We made it!” he says as he hugs her as tight as he can. “Thank you for giving me time.”

Her embrace anchors him, and her curled lips warm his chest. “I would never take time from your family, Lance. I know what it means.”

“I’m all yours now,” he says, relief pouring from his soul. His fingers graze over a familiar object, the ring that he made for her so long ago. His chest is heavy and he wants to cry of happiness. He takes off the ring and kneels before her. 

Pidge gapes, but she’s soon as teary eyed as he. “My brother proposed to his fiancée like this. I thought the tradition was forgotten.” 

“I wanted to do this the way you remember. It’s the least I can do after what you’ve given up. Let me do this for you,” he says. “I’ll be at your temple every winter and whenever else you want. Through sickness and in health, right?” 

Pidge gently places a hand behind his head and pulls him up, locking their lips together. The kiss thrills him, just the same as their first every spring. “I do,” she sobs as they part, “and you can finally keep your promise.”

Lance smiles so wide it ought to hurt and swears for the last time, “I’ll never forget you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Let me know what your favorite part was!


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